


Make The Devil Pray

by Faerierust



Category: Ebon Light (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Shorts, Sweet, Unrequited Love, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2019-11-04 06:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17892950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Faerierust/pseuds/Faerierust
Summary: Various one-shots for the Ebon Light boys.





	1. Chapter 1

Haron adjusted his suit in the mirror and flashed himself his trademark smirk. Not half bad, ladykiller. In fact, if looks could kill, he'd put Ecarae out of a job. Everything he wore was tailor-made, ironed and pressed to perfection. Clothes were important but how you'd wear them was equally so—and every elf in Gha'alia knew Haron Milirose was the poster boy for roguish charm.

So damn self-assured over almost anything. _Almost_ anything.

"Haron?"

She murmured from his family's drawing room and his heart did a double-take. Haron's smirk faltered and cracked into a pained smile. He needed to catch himself before he hurt himself over this.

"Just one moment, madralee," he promised, steeling himself and trying his best to smooth over the knot doubling down on his gut. His life was one ragtag montage of questionable decisions but at least it gave him the intuition of knowing when he was going to make an awful choice. In fact, spending time alone with her was about as great of a decision as tying himself down on a train track.

She peered up at him as he sauntered back into the drawing room to join her. Her hair fell in gentle waves on the mahogany desk from how far she was leaning. Sleep heavied her eyes and she was struggling to keep them open.

All Haron wanted to do was sweep her off her feet bridal-style, kiss her eyes shut and murmur elvish lullabies while she curled up to him. Then he'd want to wake up the next morning to her burying her nose in the crook of his neck, tangling her legs between his, tangling her fingers in his hair—he was her's but she wasn't his, and the only place they were in love was in his head.

"Would you like some tea?" Haron said, a hollow smile on his lips, "I'll sprinkle some Cuthintal in just for you."

A gentle laugh. It was tragically beautiful to him.

"Duliae said no tea before bed."

"Of course."

She opened her eyes and trailed her hand down his shoulder. Haron swallowed hard and put on a brave face for her. Duliae didn't deserve this sort of respect from her. She was his caged bird. It wasn't an act of love, it was an act of possession.

"Do you... think he'd like this dress?" she slurred, sleep stirring her words, "Skylar helped me pick it."

"It's not as beautiful as you are."

_Nothing is as stunning as you are._

"You're full of hot air."

Haron's heart broke a little right there, right then. It wasn't surprising his reputation would consume his goodwill. He forced himself to chuckle and nod along. Let her sleep. He shrugged off his suit and draped it over her shoulders.

This was something he'd need to suffer through on his own. Ernol was close friends with Duliae. There'd be no way he'd subject his brother to a heated feud between The Onyx Chandler and himself. It'd kill Ernol. 

There was a flicker of light from the table. Haron glimpsed their reflections in the glass vase standing like a sentinel between them and the rest of the world. A flower he ordered from her home island dipped its head for them. The merchant told him the meaning of it. 

Red carnation - my heart aches for you.


	2. HOME

Cairo’s bedroom door flew open before a familiar figure.

 

Where “Cairo’s bedroom” was shorthand for “Duliae’s guest bedroom for his human friend” and the “familiar figure” was really a former kidnapper.

 

Cairo stretched out in her designated bed. Moonlight spilt onto the sheets and soaked in the fur rug under the window. She craned her head to look Laceaga in the face. The elf wasted no time, barged right in, and crossed the floor towards her. His golden eyes shone like snake venom. A hard line in the form of a scowl crossed his lips. Then, Laceaga jutted his chin up in a short, sharp motion.

 

“Get up. You’re going back to Edric,” he said.

 

Edric? _Back_ to Edric? The little place living on borrowed time. The village where people clamber out of damp beds to spend their days gathering and scavenging in soil too sick to grow healthy crops in. In a hundred years, nature would reclaim the huts and the world would forget they ever existed.

 

Cairo yawned, turned her back to him, and stared out of the window. The night sky stared back at her with its one thousand golden eyes. How insignificant being human was.

 

“Can we talk about this in the morning? I’d love to sleep on it.”

 

In one fluid motion, Laceaga seized her by the arm and hauled her out of bed. Cairo shrieked. Her blankets collapsed on the floor and the only thing numbing the cold was her shock. The door loomed closer and closer while he dragged her out.

 

“ _Don’t touch me!_ ”

 

He bound her hands with rope and yanked the knot tight enough to burn her skin.

 

“Orders are orders, rabbit; the Onyx Chandler wants you sent back to where you came from.”

 

“I came from my mother, Darhal,” she said, “the only way you can return me to her is if you kill me.”

 

At this, Laceaga whirled around and leered at her. Cairo’s blood ran cold but she forced herself to hold her ground.

 

“Quiet or I’ll gag you.”

 

 

//

 

 

Bound, but not-gagged, Cairo struggled to maintain her balance while Laceaga strode towards the docks. Elven buildings loom over her like crooked shadows. The tide lapped against the docks like a hungry dog, begging for scraps.

 

Two lovers dashed between buildings. Their footfalls were fleeting and fluid in the winter wind but Cairo saw the way they held hands — and the way they leaned in for a kiss before disappearing down an alley. She grimaced at the sight of it.

 

She’d miss Haron.

 

The way those black eyes would light up at the sight of her and the way that smile would twist into one of his classic smirks. She’d miss the ringing of his laughter and the warm brush of his touch whenever he’d find some outlandish excuse to pull her in and just hold her close to him. Even the slight saunter and the way he cocked his head when they were first getting to know each other.

 

Cairo remembered the shock and delight on his face when she reused and improved pick up lines she heard from the village boys in Edric on him. She remembered the way he dizzied her from dancing together during one of his father’s extravagant parties and how every touch, every word, every kiss was a form of art with him. How…

 

Duliae’s private ship glinted in the night ahead of them. They were within boarding distance if the ramp was lowered. Laceaga whistled a familiar note and the tell-tale cranking of the ship rattled in the air. This was her last chance. She took a deep breath and screamed with all her little human lungs could handle.

 

“Haron! Haron Milirose! I need you so much right now!!!”

 

For a moment, it felt like Caelere held its breath.

 

But, even fools know, the world can only stand still for so long.

 

 

//

 

 

Vanya’s ceiling looked nothing like Duliae’s.

 

That is, if huts even have “ceilings” per se. Cairo groaned and pulled the blanket closer towards her. If she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, she could notice sunlight seeping through the thatching. How many days has she been back in Edric for? She stopped counting after five.

 

“Get up and help out!” Vanya yelled from outside.

 

“Let me sleep, Aunt. I’m still mourning.”

 

Cairo brushed a stray strand of hair off her face. The stolen ring from Duliae’s guest room glimmered on her finger and her breath got caught in her throat. Haron noticed the jewellery the instant they were alone and out of immediate harm’s way. She remembered the way he (very conveniently) took her hand in his and showered her in sweet little compliments about her “amazing eye for style” and “amazing smile” and… god. The way his voice _sang_ in the air like those wind chimes the pirates once offered.

 

_Thump!_

 

The foraging basket hit her with a start. Light poured in from the hut’s door and Vanya’s shadow towered over her. A stern look set a heavy scowl on her features.

 

“The pirate’s showing up today or tomorrow,” she said, “get ready to barter pr we’re living on turnips for the next fortnight.”

 

She mumbled a half-hearted apology to Vanya and swung her legs over the straw “mattress”. Stumbling out bed, Cairo grabbed the old basket. The flax was brittle and irritated her hands. Something she definitely didn’t miss from her time in Gha’alia.

 

The modest forest in Edric gives way to the beach. The smell of saltwater lingered in the air like a heavy fog. Cairo caught herself grimacing at the memory of being thrown onto the sand like a sack of produce. Her wrists and ankles were bound too tightly and Laceaga wouldn’t so much as relax the rope even by a fraction. She remembered screaming against the shore while the scout turned his vessel around. She cursed him until he disappeared past the point where the sea meets the sky.

 

Gha’alia felt like a distant dream now. Even the Cuthintal was quiet nowadays. She rubbed her jaw. The muscles pulled tight from the memory.

 

Still reliving her last connections with Gha’alia, Cairo cast her gaze to the ocean.

 

A ship straddled the horizon. It wasn’t Rylen’s vessel, _The Serpentine._

 

It was _The Bastion_.

 

Cairo froze. For once in her meaningless life, she didn’t know how to react. Should she jump, set a fire, make a signal? Should she hide now that she’s no longer under the Onyx Chandler’s protection?

 

But, it turned away from Edric and turned away her hopes and dreams with it.

 

She turned away from the shore and sat down on the sand. Her basket was still empty of anything useful but Cairo couldn’t will herself to stand up and get to work.

 

She swore she heard paddling sounds — the slapping of oars against water — for a mad moment. The human snorted. Maybe the Cuthintal was feeling sorry for her or something. Sometimes, over her time back in Edric, she swore she heard Ernol barking at his squadron, Calipoa issuing orders in Gha’alian, sometimes even Vadeyn and Laceaga bickering.

 

The paddling grew louder and louder still. It eased up to become the splashing of footsteps and the dragging of a light boat towards the shore. Cairo turned around.

 

Further west, Haron slinked onto the shore. His usually-pristine clothes were drenched at parts and clung onto his figure. He looked backwards and minded the hull of scout boat for any sharp rocks on the shore.

 

“Haron!” Cairo called out, “…is that really you?”

 

The Mask trainee’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. His eyes lit up brighter than all the sunlight shining off the sea. He all but threw the scout boat aside and flew towards her.

 

He wrapped her up in a huge hug. Despite the sea, Haron was warm. So, so warm. His hands clutched onto her and Cairo could feel him shaking a little. She returned the hug as hard as she could.

 

“Why aren’t you in Gha’alia? Why aren’t you at home?”

 

Haron kept her in his arms but pulled back just enough so he could take in the sight of her once more. Cairo stared at him. He stared back at her — only to break that with a warm kiss.

 

First, a kiss on the lips. Then, a kiss on the cheek. Finally, a quick kiss on the nose. A huge smile spread on his lips afterwards.

 

“But, _madralee_ , home is where the heart is.”

 

Haron swept her up bridal-style and let her head rest against his chest, where he knew she could listen to the beating of his heart.

 

“And where the blond goat is not.”

 

 

 


End file.
